


Dead of Winter

by Noivian



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom, Slender Man Mythos
Genre: F/M, I don't know what to put here, Slow Burn, i guess, mind sharing, reader is female
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-01-17 16:55:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12370014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noivian/pseuds/Noivian
Summary: He is simple, yet enigmatic. Dangerous, deadly, yet graceful and oh so careful. He is the Slenderman, and he's our leader. But more importantly, he's missing.(In which Reader is second in command when Slender goes missing. Expect mind sharing, power sharing, memory sharing, and all kinds of OC's.)





	1. Chapter One

December.

 

The hunting season has finally tapered off to a dull lull. The hunters, as if on hibernation, rarely leave their rooms at the mansion. Amateurs. The snow that covers the ground isn’t all that thick, and it’s bound to snow more as the month progresses. Whatever blood spill they were concerned about staining the white snow would be virtually gone by tomorrow morning. Any bodies left in the forest would freeze and be hidden until spring. If anything, winter was the perfect time to hunt. The trees are wiry and thin-looking, bare of their leaves and a starkly darker color against the pale snow. It reminded you of someone you know.

Your breath fogged before you, quickly pushed back behind by the wind you as you panted. You were clothed rather lightly for this time in winter. Then again, you were running at top speed. Knife in sheath, in your jacket pocket, you gripped a tree branch and turned a sharp corner, sending a thin layer of snow skidding with your boots. You nearly slip and fall, and the newbie who tries to take the corner behind you actually does slip and fall. 

But you don’t have time to help them up. You’ve hardly even bothered with their name. If they were this incompetent, it was unlikely they’d survive ‘til the spring. The slightly larger teen behind you picks themselves up out of the snow as you plow on, running and leaping through snow banks, following a trail of footprints. You were in some hot water right now. 

The target was a young twenty-something male. You don’t bother with a name for your targets anymore, unless there was more than one, in which case you gave them a number. It made the process easier for everyone. Target had somehow slipped from you, however. You, a trained and highly skilled Proxy, at the top chain of command, right under Slender himself. It was no doubt because of your bumbling newbie apprentice, and you were both horrified and embarrassed. If this target wasn’t killed, and fast, he’d get to town. Word would spread. Secrets your apprentice had unwittingly released would circulate, and your home and livelihood would be in jeopardy.  

So here you were, plowing through the snow, chasing after a target with a sheathed toy sword. Whatever possessed the target to think that a plastic blade was any use was beyond you. But it didn’t matter. What mattered now was that you caught this target before he made it back to town. You can see him, all of twenty yards before you, moving painfully slow as he waded through a knee deep snow bank. Of course, target wasn’t as well muscled as you were. He didn’t spend days upon days running, jumping, climbing, conditioning their body to be the perfect killing machine. 

Then, like a miracle, just as target makes his way out of the snowbank, he trips and falls flat on his face. But you know better than to believe in miracles anymore. Your trained eye catches the black tendril partially concealed under a layer of snow as it retracts to its owner.

Busted. Your full-out sprint slows to a jog as you move around the snowbank and examine the fallen target. He attempts to scramble to his feet, but you deliver a swift kick to his ribs. 

“Don’t bother,” your voice is melodic, but also icy and emotionless like the snow beneath your feet. Target groans, rolling onto his side opposite the side you kicked. 

Huffing through your nose, you place your hands on your hips as you watch your struggling apprentice huff and puff, a cloud of steam forming around them as they perspire wildly. You can’t say you’re not out of breath as well, but you recover much more quickly than the newbie. The newbie looks up and locks eyes with you. There’s no words exchanged, but your expression says everything needed. You’re disappointed, nay, infuriated with your apprentice. If it weren’t for your own mentor’s intervention, target would have gotten away, and it would have been the newbie they’d have been chopping up for dinner rather than target. 

You turn to the faceless one as he melds out of the backdrop of the woods, your expression now reading partly of exasperation for your apprentice, but also apologies for your mentor. Slenderman responds with a slow shake of his head. You can’t tell if it’s dismissal, dismay, or on some level, the same exasperation you feel for your apprentice, but for you instead.

The crunching of snow beside you tells you that target is now up and on his feet. Quick to recover. You’re surprised. Reaching into your pocket, you barely have time to draw your blade before target draws his. Second surprise - the plastic toy sword you though he had was actually a real sword. Perhaps you should have double checked newbie’s research before setting the two of you on this case. That, you admit, was your fault. 

With a battle cry, target charges, blade at the ready. You raise your knife to attempt to deflect it, but there’s no way you can block an actual sword with your shoddy excuse of a dagger. Honestly, you should probably invest more in weaponry than you do. But for now, you’re ready to accept your fate, preparing to sidestep just enough to lodge the blade in your arm. That should put you within range to-

Your train of thought is cut off by a black substance coating the blade inches from your face. What...? Taking a moment to process the scene before you, you start to piece together a few facts. One; Slender had teleported in front of you. Two; target’s blade was now piercing Slender’s chest, to the point where Slender’s torso was halfway down the blade and the tip came out the other side. A scream pierced the air. 

 

You blacked out. 


	2. Chapter Two

Your eyes fly open and you snap bolt upright in bed, the covers falling off you with a soft sound. For a split second, panic grips you as you fail to recognize your surroundings. The panic fades slowly as you blink your eyes and start to recall your last memory. Snow, the newbie, a target. A blade coated in a black liquid. Your head starts to spin, and your gut does flips. Ah, yes, the aftermath of Slender sickness. So he had knocked you out shortly after he was impaled. You guess that made sense. It amazes you that he still had the energy or the right mind to somehow tuck you in back home in your room in the mansion, the room you now idly gaze around as you think. No doubt the newbie is gonna be out cold for a day or three after that, though. Good. It’ll give you time to cool off and think up a fitting punishment.

Once the pounding in your head settles, you throw off the covers and swing your legs over the side of your bed. You doubt you’ve been out for very long. Given how it was midday when you and the newbie left, and now it’s about sunset, you’re going to guess four or five hours. Shuffling your feet into your slippers, you stand and stretch. You’re still in your hunting clothes, though the jacket and boots have been removed, leaving you in a pair of sweatpants, two pairs of socks, and a t-shirt. With a slight yawn, you move to your bedroom door and pull it open.

A figure leans on the wall outside, next to the doorframe. You know him simply as Pin. You’re certain there’s a reason behind the strange nickname - it doesn’t tend to fall under the general theme of death and despair that the other proxies have. Then again, it’s less cringy than Skull-wolf, which is actually a name someone picked for themselves upon becoming a fully fledged proxy. You yourself have a unique name, but it got replaced with the name ‘Vice’. It came with the job of being Slender’s right hand proxy, his second-in-command.

“We were wondering when you were gonna wake up,” Pin teased, his voice raspy. “How are you feeling?” Perhaps Pin was feeling under the weather - he was older than you, after all. A former doctor, Pin now serves the very special role of being home base’s medic. He would technically outrank you if he were still able to do field work... The older man gets up off the wall, bracing his bad leg with a cane that looked a bit more worse for wear than usual.

“I’m fine,” you respond, tone softer than when you were addressing targets. Really, you felt a bit nauseous than usual, but it’s been a long time since you were knocked out for this long, so that was more or less to be expected. “Where’s Boss?”

Boss, of course, was the short name the network used to refer to Slenderman. It was faster and a bit more discreet than saying ‘Slender’ or ‘Slenderman’ or ‘the Operator’. It was also an extremely informal title that you personally would not be caught dead actually saying in his presence. Slender never struck you as a formal guy, aside from seeming to only own black business suits, but you showed him all the respect you could. He was, after all, your role model. You strove for his level of control and sheer strength, no matter how inhuman it might be. And truthfully, you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t fantasized about him at least once in your younger years. You might not be a teenager anymore, but that doesn’t mean you never were one.

“Boss is... mmh...” Pin purses his lips with a frown, as if unsure how to say the rest of the sentence. After a few seconds of consideration, however, he does indeed spit out his thought. “Boss is missing.”

That was odd. No, that was beyond odd. That was alarming. “Missing?” you echo, voice raising a few octaves. “What do you mean, missing?” Your body goes rigid, almost as if with fright. Was Slender dead? Did that stupid target actually manage to kill your mentor? You recall hearing a scream, but who exactly uttered it...?

“Missing, as in, he’s not in his study, nor in the woods,” Pin responds in a calm and collected voice. It was as if he could hear your concern, and strangely enough, hearing someone be so calm about something so unusual helped ground you in the situation, too. This meant that, until he came back, you’d be essentially leading the proxy network. All decisions you made would be law, until Slender returned and chose to override them with his own decisions.

And yes, while this may seem like a lot of responsibility, it’s nothing you haven’t handled before.

You nod slowly, taking a moment to collect yourself and organize your thoughts, before you start listing off tasks. “Keep an eye on Newbie - I don’t know how much of the sickness they’ve been exposed to. Talk to Chef, ask about our food stores - I know we were running low on human meat, but what about the rest? If it doesn’t start snowing in three hours, send out a cleanup crew. Take a headcount at midnight, and get Jar to fix the roof already.”

Pin simply raises an eyebrow at you. “Right away, ‘boss’,” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm as he uses air quotation marks. With a lighthearted chuckle, he turns and slowly hobbles away, cane wobbling very dangerously as he went.

A feeling of mirth runs through you, and you can’t help but chuckle along as Pin left. Something about the old man always made you smile. Perhaps it was his relaxed attitude, or his supposed ability to completely dispel any stressful mood or situation.

However, as Pin rounds a corner out of sight, you exhale slowly and let your shoulders sag, almost as if you were deflating. Turning, you walk right back into your room and lay down slowly on your bed, slipping off your slippers in the process. A hiccup finds its way up your throat and passed your lips - a product of a spasming diaphragm that usually happens to you when you eat too quickly, or when you’re feeling sick. Perhaps you were poisoned more than you thought you were.Closing your eyes, you lay your arm over your face to block out some of the setting sun’s light. The scene replayed in your head over and over. Target gets up, pulls sword, and shish-kabobs Slender through the chest. Your own negligence got your mentor, your boss, killed. For all you know, he might just be in the mountains, dying somewhere.

A single tear runs down your cheek, your lip quivering with restrained pouts. How long has it been since you last cried? Probably not in a long while, since you last broke a rib, perhaps. Then again, it had been longer since you had messed up so badly. You wanted to blame the newbie, really you did. You wish you didn’t have to take the brunt of all this guilt. But in the end, it was your negligence to train the newbie properly, your arrogance that got you in this situation.

_“Don’t beat yourself up.”_

What? You remove your arm from your face and blink your eyes open, sitting up slowly and looking around. Had... someone said something? A quick glance showed there was no one in the room.

_“It’s good to be critical, but don’t beat yourself up.”_

“Who the fuck is there?” you call out, putting on your icy, angry voice. Your muscles tense and you glare at the walls, as if the invisible force talking with you would somehow appear.

_“Relax.”_

At the word, your muscles, against your command, relax. Your body moves on its own, returning you to a laying position. You know this force. Slenderman was controlling your body from somewhere.

_“Exactly.”_

Oh. And you suppose he’s in your head now.

_“I didn’t have the time to explain. You were unconscious anyways.”_

Oh... kay...? Explain what?

_“I need time to recover. Since I can’t be present physically, I decided I’d move my consciousness in here. A mental passenger, if that visualization helps.”_

To be fair, you’ve only heard Slenderman speak through other proxies. The act of controlling a conscious or unconscious body was not an uncommon practice for the faceless being. Hell, he’s even talked through you before. But you’ve never heard his personal voice. His speech pattern, sure, but never a physical or mental voice in your head. That was, until now. It took you off-guard; you never imagined his voice to sound quite like it did. Sure it was deep, but it didn’t have the same booming quality you initially thought it would. Instead, his voice was smooth, like velvet, or melted butter. Sickly-sweet like syrup, or the blood of the innocent-

_“My my, how poetic of you.”_

Your face immediately flushed. Seems like the faceless one can read your emotion. A deep, rich chuckle filled your mind, laughing both at your embarrassment, but also you figure to hide his own from being flattered. After all, it wasn’t every day someone complimented the voice of someone without a mouth. You can’t help but wonder just how long Slender’s been present in your mind...

 _“Long enough to know you call me ‘Boss’ behind my back.”_ There was an air of teasing to the tone of his voice, as if he didn’t really care what he was called. Still, the thought that he knew of their informal nickname made your blush deepen. Slowly, his chuckle faded to the recesses of your mind, supposedly leaving you alone with your thoughts.

 

You don’t know how long you’re going to be able to do this.


	3. Chapter Three

“What’s the first rule of being a Proxy?” 

 

“Follow all orders...?”

 

“Don’t let the target get away.”

 

You sigh to yourself, pinching the bridge of your nose. You’d been scolding Apprentice for the past half hour, and while they did sound very sorry for their actions, they didn’t exactly seem to know what being a Proxy was about. Even Skull-wolf hadn’t been this oblivious.

 

“ _Patience..._ ” the coy voice of your master floated through your thoughts. He hadn’t been exactly helping the situation, either. You knew you needed to be patient, but...

 

“Okay, look. What you did was really bad. It almost cost us everything. Because of that, I can’t let you off without a punishment,” you stated. Apprentice looked downtrodden, and you grimaced to yourself. “But what you did was a direct result of me not teaching you how to properly handle that situation, or most other situations like it. Because of this, I’ll be doing your punishment with you. Before every meal, I want you to run ten laps around the outside of the mansion.”

 

Apprentice winced. “Ten...?” 

 

“Ten. That’s thirty laps a day. If you’re caught sneaking snacks between meals, it’ll tack on five extra laps.” That was a double pronged addition - either they’ll get really good at stealth and lying, or they’ll learn not to go against orders. Perhaps both.

 

An appreciative hum came from the back of your mind. “ _How clever_.”

 

You had to refrain from rolling your eyes. “Dismissed.” Shoulders slumping, Apprentice turned to shuffle away. 

 

It’s been a full twenty-four hours since you’ve first realized you’re sharing a mind with Slenderman. You’re grateful he hadn’t taken control of your body again so far since that initial moment of realization, but it had been a bit awkward using the facilities knowing he might be watching through your eyes. 

 

“ _This level of mind sharing is unprecedented,_ ” he had stated to you earlier in the day. “ _As far as what you can expect to experience... that’s the biggest unknown at this point_.” You had a feeling he hadn’t been telling you the full truth, but had no reason or no way to pry more. That was, aside from the fact that you really shouldn’t even be prying in the first place. You rarely questioned your mentor’s motives, though he hadn’t expressed whether he appreciated that or not yet.

 

“Ten laps, eh?” Pin asked from the couch. You had been scolding Apprentice in what was basically the living room or mansion common areas, where most other Proxies and Pastas gathered in their free time. Currently only Pin was present, but then again it was just past breakfast, and most of the residents were just going to bed at this point. “You let them off easy. Didn’t you do twenty per meal when you first messed up?”

 

This time, you actually rolled your eyes. “Yeah, and that was in the spring, when I wasn’t at risk of getting hypothermia and losing a limb while running.” Pin merely scoffed at your response. You knew you were right, and obviously Pin knew you were right, hence why he said nothing to counter you.

 

“Speaking of hypothermia,” Pin started with a grin and a wave to someone behind you. You turn to see a burly man tromping over, leaving tracks of mud and melting snow on the floor. A welling feeling of exasperation upon seeing the mess of snow and mud on the floor overwhelmed you, and you knew for a fact it was your own exasperation compounded over your master’s, reminding you once again of the faceless being riding along in your mind.

 

“Roof fixed?” You asked, and the burly man you knew as Jar gave a gruff noise and a nod. Jar was surprisingly large, perhaps the second tallest person under this roof, second only to Slender. But Jar didn’t look nearly as slim and, well, slender as Slenderman did. No, Jar was a bear of a man, equal parts absolutely ripped and squishy. You suppose that’s what happened when a naturally big guy does mechanical and construction work for twenty or so years, on top of working out.  Jar is also one of the few Proxies that got recruited while you’ve been Vice, though you had very little to do with his recruiting. You’ve never seen Jar much around the mansion, unless he’s doing repairs on the old place or delivering equipment or the like. He’s the group’s handyman and courier, though he doesn’t speak much.  The room fell to silence as Jar took a seat on the love seat, taking up the entire two-person couch. An awkward moment of silence passed before Pin burst out coughing and excused himself from the room, more than likely heading back to the foyer that had been converted to a medical center. You couldn’t help but idly wonder if Pin was getting sick. It was flu season, after all...

 

“ _Pin is old, frail,_ ” Slender’s voice curled around your mind like a cat. “ _If not this season, then the next, and so on..._ ” While the thought was a bit cruel, since it was about one of the other Proxies, it wasn’t incorrect. You had no clue how old Pin was, but there was no way he was younger than sixty.

 

Come to think of it, you only now realize how little you know of the other Proxies. Getting familiar with people you might wind up getting killed or killing just hasn’t been a priority. Perhaps you should change that. A general sound of approval in the back of your mind confirmed your suspicion. Your company now, however, was known to hardly converse as it was. In fact, you’re surprised Slender had been this talkative in the first place.  Regardless, you figure you could spend a quick five minute break from your tasks to attempt to get to know Jar. Taking a seat on the couch across from the burly man, you tap your knees with your fingertips, debating how to open the conversation. Jar peers at you through his shaggy, brown and curly hair, having removed his hat, brushing the snow onto the carpet and setting it on the small coffee table between you two. 

 

“So, um... Jar...” You start. His eyebrow quirks, but he says nothing. “How... have you... uh...” How did you phrase this? Talking to people wasn’t a strong suit of yours. Sure, you could give and take orders, but actually being social? It’s what made you an outcast in your youth, your lack of social ability. “Enjoying Proxy work?” There, that was good enough.

 

“No,” came a rugged and deep response, his voice fitting with his appearance. He didn’t sound too pleased with your attempt at conversation, and stood. “Need anything else?” 

 

“No, you’re free to go,” you answered, almost automatically. Nodding again, Jar turned and left the room, headed to the front door. Well, that was a poor excuse for a conversation. You sigh as the front door slams shut behind Jar.

 

“ _You need to make a better attempt_ ,” Slender’s voice sounds, echoing your own thoughts. “ _But Jar isn’t exactly the best place to start, either. He didn’t exactly join of his own volition_.”

 

“So you forced him to join?” you ask aloud, seeing no need to remain quiet, given how you were the only one in the room. Your body began to move on its own accord - not quite because of Slender’s doing, but because both of you wanted to clean the melted puddles of snow on the floor before the floorboards beneath the carpeting needed to be replaced. Sometimes having a mental passenger had its perks. You find you only need to put half the thought usually needed into movement and cleaning, both you and Slender participating in the task through your body.

 

“ _Force? No, no_ ,” Slender coos back. “ _He’d simply seen too much. I offered him a choice, and he chose servitude_.” Some part of you accepted that at face value. That part was the part that had been trained into you through your teenage and into your young adult years as a Proxy. Another part of you, the logical part that was independent and still retained free will, the leaderly part of you, knew there was more to the story than Slender was letting on. But you’d be damned if you were gonna ask your boss to explain. If there was anything you’d learned in your years, it was that Slenderman had little time for explanations. He was more of a trial-by-fire kind of guy, preferring you solve your own problems instead of relying on him to solve them for you.  “ _Throw the hatchlings out of the nest. If they fly, good. If they fall, they’re no longer a problem._ ” You rolled your eyes at your master’s saying. It wasn’t the first time you heard it, but something about it fundamentally didn’t sit right with you. It was a bit cruel for your tastes. But then again, you’re the one who voluntarily decided to work for and as a killer. Things like this were entirely strange, how you’d be okay spraying an innocent’s blood everywhere but put off by simple blackmail among your own ranks.  Slender’s chuckle accompanied your thoughts as the two of you put away the cleaning supplies, having returned the floor to its natural state. “ _Ah, so young, so naive, dear hatchling. Perhaps I’ll provide you with a good updraft so you can fly._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this wasn't as long as I had planned it to be, but eh. This chapter was messing me up really badly anyways. I'll try to update more frequently, I'm shooting for twice a month. Perhaps the 1st and 15th of each month...? Well, we'll see how life pans out.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's stuck around this long, and everyone who left kudos and comments! It means a lot to me.


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